The Warden and the Boy Who Lived
by Varigos D. Vastitas
Summary: Banished from his world, appointed the guardian of a hero in training, and stuck babysitting a bunch of brats. Sebastion Amell would rather be stuck dealing with Darkspawn instead of Hogwarts. How well can a Gray Warden perform as the master of arms at a school for witchcraft and wizardry? (OC perspective)


Okay, first off my name is Sebastian Amell. I am a long list of things. A battlemage, a healer, the Gray Warden Commander of my homeland, hell, I'm the slayer of an archdemon. None of this mattered at this moment. Due to a stupid mistake, an ancient elven mirror and tripping over my own two feet I find myself floating in a river with no water, surrounded by silvery shards of what look like glass. The glass reflected scenes and images of fantastic worlds, average scenes of life, and nothing at all. Not a single shard reflected me. I could not feel the passage of time as I floated, hunger did not touch me, time did not age me, I simply floated, passing by the river of reflections.

* * *

When I first entered the stream I struggled, swinging my longsword, Starfang, at the shards hoping in vein to return to solid ground. I launched a volley of spells ahead of me, hoping to reverse the motion. Nothing happened. My vast arsenal of spells could defeat armies of darkspawn, but couldn't reverse the curse I had placed upon myself. After what must have been hours of pointless sword swinging and useless spell casting I returned my blade to its holster upon the back of my armor. Whatever section of the fade I had entered was beyond my knowledge. There was no solid ground, nothing at all past the twinkling silver shards. As far as I could perceive I was trapped.

* * *

The only joy I could find within this prison was the fact that I could sleep. As I slept the current moved me at a steady pace, slipping untouched by the stationary reflections. I vaguely noted that no matter what I had tried earlier to free myself, none of the shards were touched by my body or anything physical I possessed. I vaguely wondered what effect if any my spell based assault had. A pity that I had long since floated by my previous targets. I just made due with launching spell after spell at the shards ahead of me, taking careful note of what happened.

* * *

It was with a great amount of testing that I discovered my spells not only effected the mirrors, but whatever they were reflecting. My first target was a shard that showed a snowy scene, of people passing by with strange clothes and bags in hand. I cast the minor spell of winter's grasp, deciding that the additional frost couldn't do much harm. Immediately the shard froze as was the spells effect, but past the icy layer I noticed that the people on the other side all turned to stare at the shard with looks of awe and astonishment.

Amazed at the effect I targeted another spell, one where a man was assaulting a woman with a knife in hand. I used a minor fireball spell, targeting the man's masked face. The fireball entered the reflecting shard and hit my target, lighting his cloth mask ablaze. The woman stared at me in amazement as I past the shard. I realized that not only could I see them, but if they were looking closely, they too could see me. I still couldn't move from my set path in the stream, but at least I now had something to pass the time.

* * *

If my sense of time was not completely ruined by this place, I would dare to say that I had been floating for weeks if not months. For a few days it was fun to interact with the world on the other side of the mirrors, but eventually that wore out its welcome. I started sleeping more and more. I wondered if it was how the immortal elves felt. Live for so long bored you sleep to pass the time. When The boredom started to overwhelm me I began to cast spells upon myself to sleep more. It was no easy task, my training as a warden mixed with my mastery of the arcane arts made it difficult for anything sans for a master's spells to even be felt by me, much less take effect.

As usual for any living thing that gets bored for a seemingly endless time, I came up with a stupid idea. A very stupid idea. I'm a archmage with a lot of power behind my spells, and I knew if I messed this up I would end myself in a very very bad manner. I called upon my magic, forming it into a set of elemental auras I used whenever I wanted to inflict some serious damage upon an enemy. The aura of spell might, an aura of elemental mastery, and an aura of elemental chaos. The spells wove around me flowing against the endless unseen force that caused me to drift amongst the shards. For the first time since I entered this place I stood still. No movement, no drifting. I called to my power, and it sang to me. I willed the energies to become cold, the air stiff and frozen. My magic responded to my will and the auras around me forming a blizzard of divine power. The snowstorm's fury did as I hoped it would freezing multiple shards together with ice, allowing me to form a platform just barely beneath my feet.

I broke the connection with the blizzard allowing the auras and magic in the storm to sustain it as I prepared my greatest spell, a storm of the century. In order to make this work I needed to weave lightning into every snowflake as the blizzard unleashed its chill upon my target. Lighting arched around me, crackling with its unleashed energy. The moment I unleashed it I would have seconds to prepare a defense against the storm. I held my breath and unleashed a new form of hell at my feet.

The chill of the blizzard ended in an instant, replaced by a violent cyclone of lightning, raw magic, and chaos made into a single force. I admired my work for a few moments, watching the arcane storm forcing the shards out of alignment. The shards however didn't seem to agree with my spell. Turning black before shattering into some sort of obsidian shaded dust. The dust swirled around the lightning for only a moment after each shard shattered before it amplified the spell. I tried in vein to rein in my spell, pulling my mana back from it until I had regained most if not all of my spell-power.

The storm continued to grow, sustaining itself from the blackened shards rather than my magic. I drew into my magic, wrapping myself in an anti-magic bubble. The storm raged against the bubble, waves of teal and blue flowed around me like raindrops in a lake. I felt my mana drain at an unfathomable level. In desperation I did something so stupid that when I recalled it later I thought I had gone tranquil. I burst the barrier around me and forced it's energy into the vortex. Then I supercharged it with what remained of my mana to force it to explode. The anti-magic burst exploded with more force than I had ever witnessed in any of my adventures. I barely noticed as the force of the blast forced me into contact with one of the shards.

* * *

I felt a pain like never before as the world of the shards vanished before my eyes, and I could only watch helplessly as I was flung out of a what I first thought was a shard, until I noticed a wooden frame around it. A wooden frame?. My pain addled mind vaguely noted it was an old mirror vaguely in the shape of the Eluvian mirror I had fallen into. It was at that point I noticed my silver armor was covered in frost and blood. My armor was nearly invulnerable to the powers of spell craft and the elements. I faced the archdemon's breath unharmed, all thanks to my Juggernaut armor. Thus I knew I was on the brink of death if the frost from that storm actually managed to freeze the silverite metal. I removed my helmet and lay it beside me, drawing two of the strongest Lyrium potions I possessed. I grimaced and drank both of the master level potions at once. I felt my diminished spell-power begin to restore, however I felt my physical body ready to release my spirit into the fade once and for all.

I chuckled to myself wishing I had a few healing poultices. Leliana always told me to make sure I had plenty of healing kits with me in case my mastery of the arcane arts ever failed me. I could feel my blood pooling underneath me. Somewhere inside my chest plate a piece of something had pierced into me. I called upon my magic again, begging with it to heal, to restore my body to health. My magic answered with a burst of blue smoke emerging from me and setting into a glowing blue aura around me. The cleansing aura started its work immediately, knitting together my wounds.

I prayed to the maker, I didn't want to die yet. I hadn't had a moment to enjoy the peace I worked so hard to achieve. I struggled to feed the aura but my meager pool of restored mana wasn't close to the task. Consciousness slipped from me as I tried my damnedest to heal, praying I wouldn't bleed to death while unconscious.

* * *

I awoke in a pool of dried blood, still in the stone brick room with the wood framed mirror. My mind felt clearer, but I still felt as weak as a newborn kitten. Gingerly I removed my armor, and tenderly wiped what blood I could from my body and possessions. Starfang was impaled in the wall behind me, ironically it was the very thing that sliced me. In my injury induced delirium I thought the wound was a stab on the front, instead it was a slash across the back. It would was long, but thankfully not deep. Death by blood loss was one of the worst ways to go, too damn slow. When I die, it's gonna be on a battle field from a grievous wound or at old age surrounded by family.

With the armor cleaner than it was before and the feeling of crusty blood lessened, I re-equipped myself and looked for a door out of the chamber. My joints ached and swore revenge at me for daring to move. Judging from the aching and the cracked stone of the wall I laid against I must have hit the wall with an unbelievable force. My healing magic brought me back from the brink of death, but judging by my low mana pool it would be a long time before I would have enough power to heal myself completely and not leave myself defenseless for a time.

The door for the room was old, rusty, but unlocked. So was the chamber past that, the only thing of note about it was scorch marks and empty bottles on the floor. The next room was empty again, the floor shaped and colored like a giant chessboard. The room after that had a very high ceiling. To be honest I wondered what in the name of the maker the rooms had been used for. It was the last of the rooms that held something. At first I thought I had entered a cave of some sort, possibly a smugglers den. I conjured a fireball in my hand, holding it high for illumination. Directly ahead of me was a mass of writhing squirming vines.

Whatever the plant thing was it was pissed that I was in its home, it attacked with its vines, which squirmed and struck like snakes trying to grab and bind me. I drew Starfang from my back and swung it repeatedly, severing multiple vines, but trying in vein to keep the fireball in my hand stable and lit. I really didn't want to deal with flaming snake vines trying to strangle me in a dark cave. My weakened body however refused to keep its balance and I fell to the room's floor. The moment the fireball was released from my hand the mana within it went wild and it exploded into a burst of flames and smoke. The magic of my armor dispelled the flames before I could even feel the heat. The plant monster was not so lucky. It seemed like the instant the flames touched the plant-flesh of the monster it burned to ash. Apparently it wasn't pissed at me, only the flames I carried. The monster burned away within minutes, leaving behind an ash covered cave wall with the only distinctive feature being the square hole at the top that light was pouring from.

I sighed and began to climb, augmenting my stamina and strength with the cleansing aura. Despite my strength and magical aid it still took a solid thirty minutes or so of digging my fingers into the rock face with sheer strength just to reach the hole, from which case I discovered another obstical. The accursed exit to the cave was nearly six feet away from the wall I climbed. Losing my patience I slammed my hand against the roof of the cave, expecting a sharp pain and clang of metal on rock to be my reward. Instead the floor yielded to my hand, shattering as I struck. I glanced at my arm in wonder for only a moment, before repeatedly smashing my armored fist at my roof. Eventually I had a hole big enough to climb through.

The room I entered was smaller than the others, with a large golden harp standing next to a simple wooden stool. There was a door like all the rest, but unlike all the rest I needed a target to test my unusually powered strength. With a thought I dispelled all auras, enchantments, and other powers I could have been using to aid my strength. Then I struck the door as hard as I could with a casual punch. The door didn't shatter, it didn't crack, it didn't bend. What it did do was launch from its frame, tearing parts of the wall out with the hinges, before slamming into the opposite wall behind it and splintering into mere fragments of itself, forever beyond repair.

One more I glanced at my hands, wondering what in Andraste's name had happened to me in that stream of reflections to give me such god-like strength. I drew Starfang, keeping a strong hold on my blade in case of a threat. The hallways were stone and empty like the rooms before it. The furnishings were like the usual for the castles I had been to, Suits of armor, luxurious paintings and the like. I walked down the corridor, looking for a window, or perhaps some clue so I could find my bearings. It was when I got to the end of the corridor that I noticed something very off about the paintings that decorated the halls. Despite the fact that there were numerous scenes with signs of inhabitants, not one of the pictures had a person in them. It was unnerving to see a table with a fine meal on it, but the chairs pushed over and the dishes swept aside as if a family had run away in terror during their meal.

Ignoring the paintings for the moment I continued searching the castle, checking rooms, stairwells and corridors for signs of anyone living in this place. There were many signs of people. Everywhere was cleaned, no dust dirt or signs of filth. Rooms were furnished and decorated with furniture one would expect in a classroom or place of study. I vaguely felt reminded of the Tower of Magi and felt a pang of homesickness. I grudgingly pushed the feeling down, preferring to keep my focus on the task at hand.

When I finally found a window the scenery held nothing familiar. I was in a giant cliff side castle, one larger than Redcliff with a lake beside it just the same. For, not the first time, I wondered if I was in some section of the fade. The thought persisted until I realized that I couldn't perceive the one feature that would give such a fact away. There was nothing of the Golden city in the sky. No matter what section of the fade I had ever entered the one feature that was always present was the Golden City, hidden behind the black shadows that have persisted ever since the First Blight.

I turned from my view of the Castle surroundings and continued on my search of the castle, Starfang once again holstered upon my back. As I traversed the castle I noticed a residue of magic that persisted across the entire castle. There were mages near after all. As long as I kept my auras away and kept from casting spells I should remain undetected. That fact didn't keep me from having the motions of my mana clash technique running around in my head. I may be weak, I may be conserving my last ten percent of mana, but I could still strike down a dozen mages with one mana clash and not break a sweat. If there really were mages about I considered summoning my staff from the fade. Spellfury cost me nearly two hundred sovereigns and was extremely powerful, however if I touch the thing I start bleeding magic, and that is never smart to do when sneaking around a mage's home.

Eventually my search of the castle lead me to an entrance hall, where I could hear dozens of voices merrily chatting to each other. The voices were of mixed accents and sounded young, but I kept up my guard, and kept ready to cast the mana clash before making a quick retreat. I moved closer to the door the sound was coming from, on the other side I could hear the sounds of people eating a feast and the voices of children chatting to each other.

Before I could decide weather to enter or sneak past, the door opened and an elderly man in robes stepped out, carefully and quickly shutting the large doors behind him. I stared at the old man, clad in flamboyantly colored robes. The elder took a moment to stare at me, and I admit I must have been a sight clad in blood stained armor.

"Greetings, " Said the elder, extending his arm in a gesture of welcome, "I am Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, welcome to Hogwarts."

I know I was expecting a language barrier, and having my first encounter in this new world be spoken in English, but I was sure I misheard. "Hogwarts? What is a Hog wart?"

The headmaster swept his arm in a grandiose gesture at the walls. "This castle is Hogwarts school for witchcraft and wizardry. We are a school that teaches young mages to control their power and how to hide themselves in the world."

I stared, several years as a student of the mage tower flashed across my mind. "Do you know about anything called the Chantry?"

Albus Dumbledore stared blankly at me for a moment, "No my boy, I've never heard of a Chantry."

I admit, at twenty three years of age under my belt, and considered myself a mature and responsible person. Hearing that there was no Chantry meant there was no Templars. No circle binding me. No right of annulment meaning an instant execution if I pissed off any member of the Chantry. I cheered, feeling free for one of the first times in my life. I literally jumped for joy. Repeatedly. I had bloody armor on, and I was cheering like a child who found a thousand sovereigns at his feet.

To my eternal shame Dumbledore snapped me out of my joyful trance. "Excuse me my boy, would you mind letting me in on the joke?"

I snapped back to reality, "Oh. Um, sorry." I said sheepishly, and completely embarrassed. "Lets just say me and the Chantry have a long history with a guillotine hanging above my head."

"I see." The elder's eyes narrowed, and I had a suspicion that my privacy was being violated. As I matched eye contact with the headmaster I vaguely felt my life flash before my eyes, by nowhere near as vivid as my multitude of near death experiences. I realized that something was wrong, that I never considered that he might be reading my mind. This was obviously a new world, a new place with possibly new rules for magic.

I glared, channeling my mana into my eyes, bringing an ethereal shield across my whole body just in case. Immediately the headmaster jerked as if stung, and removed his glasses from his face to rub at his eyes. "Pardon an old man," he started, still rubbing his eyes, "When you mentioned your relationship with your 'chantry' I had to make sure you were not a threat to my students Mr. Amell."

I stepped back, ready to release a mana clash if needed, "You read my mind." I accused.

The elder mage before me nodded, "I did more than that Sebastian Amell, Commander of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. I saw your life, your entire life, using a branch of mind magic know as Legilimency. With it I have seen your memories, and your thoughts during each situation."

I interrupted him before he could continue further. "You owe me dinner."

"Excuse me?"

"In my world your expected to seduce and by a few meals for a woman before you share intimate moments with them. What you just did was far, far more intimate than that." I stated flatly. "You owe me dinner, flowers, chocolates, and a nice scented bath."

The headmaster looked flustered, a fact that amused me greatly. "Would a job offer suffice?"

I stared in outright shock. "If you've really seen my memories, you know what I've done, and the things I can do. What job could you possibly need me for?"

Albus Dumbledore grinned at me, and I knew immediately he was planning to throw a wrench into someone's plans, and I was the wrench. "This is a castle, and we are lacking in a warden."

"A what?" I questioned, disbelieving.

"Hogwarts lacks any man-at-arms. A soldier for its defense. Since the school's founding it has existed under its own rules and charter. Part of that was the ability to draft soldiers in its defense. Considering your... considerable abilities in combat, I believe you would be a perfect defender."

Something didn't make sense, not to pull my own chain, but I am a powerhouse. A living weapon. An army of one. I could split the horde of an army with little little effort. "You must be joking. You want me to defend a school? Why?"

"The ministry, our magical government, intends to take over my school this year fearing that I am using the threat of a dark wizard to cause panic and over throw them. The truth being that they are too afraid to accept that he has returned from the dead. While you are here I want you to keep the school safe from any and all threats to the school, and protect one boy in particular." He explained with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Let my guess, you either have a grandson or a chosen one in the school." I stated dryly.

Dumbledore nodded, "Both in a sense. His name is Harry Potter, known in our world for surviving the dreaded killing curse."

Any further conversation was brought to a halt by my stomach growling, reminded by the lingering scents of food that I had not eaten in what seemed like a millennium. Dumbledore only grinned at me again, "Lets hold off for now. I'm sure you must be famished after your journey. Will you take the job?"

I grinned, feeling the yearning for adventure drumming in my blood. "We can talk wages later, but yes, I will defend Hogwarts for you."

"Excellent, let us return to the opening feast. I daresay my turkey might be cold by now."

We both strode into the halls, and I had to say the floating candles were a nice touch. There were five tables, four colored tables, each with animal theme barriers above the tables. The transparent ceiling was also a nice touch. A little over the top but impressive.

Dumbledore led me to a table on the far side of the hall, past the student tables. Dumbledore himself sat in a golden throne, conjuring a seat to his left for me. I took the seat, noticing that my armor was clean of all of my blood. I caught Dumbledore's eye and nodded to my arm. He cheekily winked and mouthed, "magic."

I ignore the play by play, focusing instead on eating my food. I admit, I was being a bit sloppy, but Andraste's soaked undergarments I was starving. Judging by the looks I was getting however my dinner manners were atrocious. I paused, wiping away the excess food. Just in time to watch a few potential students get a hat placed on their head, and the hat scream out a name. Impressive magic, but I've seen plenty of annoying objects possessed by spirits.

I continued eating, at a more polite and socially acceptable pace rather than my lightning fast display of horror. Eventually the dinner rush died down and the students had their fill. I noticed Dumbledore stand up, drawing the attention of the students at once. "Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of term notices."

I barely paid attention to my new employer's speech, Dumbledore had a way of word, but I honestly didn't care about banned items or who was teaching what. Unless I misunderstood something, I was going to be the castle's guard dog. New teachers and such were not my concern unless Albus told me otherwise.

"Due to growing concerns about rule enforcement as well as the safety of the students in the castle I have re-introduced an older position. May I present The Hogwarts warden, and master-at-arms: Sebastian Amell." The headmaster gestured to me and I nodded at the students, silently asking if he wanted me to address the murmuring students. He nodded, and I stood up, glancing calmly at the students whom I was assigned to protect. I figured I should make a bit of a show.

"Greetings everyone, I am Sebastian Amell. You may address me as either 'Warden' or 'Warden Amell' I have been graciously assigned to protect you as a favor to the esteemed Headmaster. I am not here to teach you, nor baby you. I am here to protect you." I reached a hand out, summoning Spellfury from its pocket of existence. The moment the staff touched my metal covered hand my mana formed into a powerful blue aura, flowing around me as a visible yet transparent mist.

"By order of the Headmaster I am to punish anyone whom would dare harm the students or staff of Hogwarts as I see fit. If any feel need of protection, find me and I shall make sure justice is done. Be warned however..." I paused, willing the aura to become oppressive and draining. Students and teachers alike became pale and shuddered as my aura washed over them.

"If you dare to harm anyone under my care, nothing in this realm will protect you from me." I forced the aura to drop and withdraw as I banished Spellfury to its home. "That being said I hope to become friends with you, and be a welcome guest in this school for as long as I am needed."

Dumbledore stood as I sat down, starting a polite applause. Also I could swear his eyes were... twinkling? Dumbledore addressed the crowd before him, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the - " I heard a loud clearing of the throat, cutting off the headmaster mid-sentence.

I noted the professor turn to stare at a woman in a pink outfit that defied my sensibilities. The pink woman cleared her throat again, 'hem, hem', before rudely standing to make her own speech. A few members of the staff frowned, while the headmaster just looked rather shocked that someone so boldly interrupted him. While everyone gave looks of displeasure or surprise he calmly sat and let her speak.

The pink wearing woman thanked the headmaster and started spewing childish honeyed words, and greetings to the students before boringly ranting on about a ministry and their desire to impose upon the school with their rules and restrictions, while saying it all in a not so blatant manner.

The moment she bowed to the staff and sat down I felt my mouth start acting up. "What a constipated and rude little bitch." I stated to Dumbledore, loud enough for the entire hall to hear in the silence after her speech. "First she cuts you off without permission, then she starts on about garbage that has nothing to do with this place except for the fact that she just subtlety said to everyone that the Ministry is afraid of you and they want to take control. Please tell me I have the power to throw her out? I'm sure that I can teach her class better than she could, or at least without such eye-stabbing shades of pink." Most of the students were either stunned or snickering at my response. A few even openly laughed.

Dumbledore turned to me, his eyes undoubtedly twinkling, "Now now Sebastian, I'm sure Ms. Umbridge can teach Defense against the dark arts just fine. After all the Ministry wouldn't have elected her to that post unless they felt she could handle such a responsibility."

"I noticed that you didn't confirm or deny whether or not I could fire her or take her place." I replied dryly, smirking somewhat.

Dumbledore grinned, "You could do either Warden Amell. There are quite a few abilities that a Warden of Hogwarts can lay claim to. It is your job to ensure the best for Hogwarts after all."

I looked over at the furious Ms. Umbridge, if her face got any redder I would believe that she was about to explode. While Albus finished his speech and dismissed the students I observed the whole of them in front of me. Each class of students seemed to not only stick to their own, but to their own groups inside of the whole.

The students marked by silver and green all kept to themselves, sans for one pack all clustered around a blond haired boy who I could tell acted like a spoiled noble. The yellow marked students were all one big group, none seemed isolated or alone, it seemed to be a cluster of friends. The blue marked students were all fast. Fast eaters, talkers, and generally just acted with haste. The red ones were interesting. They all acted friendly, but rough. Like warriors in training.

One in particular was obvious to me. He had raven black messy hair and sat next to a ginger and some girl. There was nothing that stuck out physically. The black mist of a possession that covered his head was what I was staring at. A spirit of some sort or another was either controlling the boy or trying to.

As the students started walking out I grabbed the headmaster's attention. "That boy you wanted me to watch. Messy black hair, sorta thin, hangs out with a ginger?"

Albus attention was immediately all on me. "He's being possessed isn't he?" I asked. Albus pale complexion was all the answer I needed.


End file.
